I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

I must say, it's been a most amazing few days. I've barely had time to catch my breath or sit down for a minute without having something else come along since Thursday afternoon. Not that a great deal of it hasn't been most enjoyable, mind you.

I'm quite looking forward to a few quiet days to settle down, catch up on various pieces of neglected work, and get some quality research time in, just for the change of pace. (And I've certainly got enough to keep me occupied for a bit.)

I woke up to a half dozen notes, but no details, except that apparently you’re much better off than Stint is.

Are you?

And what on earth did you do happened?

Raz -

There’s another one.

I’ve been up in office hours, working with some of my newts. When I went down to my classroom to fetch the next round of marking, I checked for anything hexed (that is a most useful charm you taught me, even if I am near saying it in my sleep now) and one of the blameless-looking essays from my 2nd years glowed.

Same pink parchment, same hand. It looks like it had been glamoured to look more like an ordinary essay, but the glamour had started fading - that pile came in Monday, and they’ve been stacked on one of my shelves since then. (So, how did it get in there? Because both the hex and the concealment is well beyond a 2nd year.)

The intention of the runes for the hex, based on something in the letter, would be unpleasant. But the more I look at it, there’s something in the design that makes me think it could have ended up being quite a bit worse - whoever set it was a bit too emphatic.

When I came back upstairs, Vesta Chambers took one look at me and immediately got the others to agree to stay longer. I’m glad of the company, and they’re being dears. They’re currently explaining basic chart skills to a couple of second years who came for help, saving me the trouble, and Maxine O’Flaherty has tried twice to get me to drink more tea.

What I really want is a stiff drink or three, but not with two classes still tonight. Later, I suppose.

I am being very cautious. Promise.

I know you've been horribly busy this week, dear, so no need to reply if you're still buried. I thought the following amusing moments from my mail might give you a chuckle, though. (Has the fuss over the champions died down on your end any? Gossip has still been running high in the staff room when I poke my head in.)

Anyway:

1 letter accusing me of fixing the Cup, because of course I'd favor my own house. (Well, I do, but not to the extent of fiddling with the charms on ancient magical artifacts. I have rather more sense.) That rumor seems to be more prevalent at school than in the general populace, anyway, and thankfully people seem to have moved on to other candidates.

2 letters from parents of children under the age of 11, worrying that the challenges of the YPL are not going to adequately prepare their children for life in the Protectorate as adults, and what do I propose to do about that?

Favorite sentences: "Our children should not fall backwards when they leave the excellent new village school programme recently established. There, they sing songs, flourish flags, propose projects contributing to their community, all to praise the Protectorate! Surely the YPL programme could do more, with weekly meetings, and far more extensive expectations, rewards, and incentives."

They then go on to propose a yearly play, a student newspaper to highlight essays, events, and profiles of the YPL's shining stars, and the creation of challenges between different groups of students to "ensure that students excell in all areas of the mind, magic, and devoted heart."

I have written back to say that I appreciate their ideas, and am certain the programme will continue to develop, but that at present, we are unable to add any additional formal activities to the schedule.

4 letters from parents of children currently in the YPL programme, two of whom are concerned that the activities are too easy and simplistic, and two of whom argue that they are far too challenging for developing minds and bodies. One of these seems to have gone through the journals to highlight every dangerous event that has happened to students involved in the YPL programme since its inception. (Thankfully, she only knows about the half of it, though on the whole our record is quite good.)

Favorite sentences: "These are our children, the future leaders of the Protectorate. How can we risk their lives and hearts in dangerous pursuits before they are trained?" (I resisted the temptation to ask if she had examined the Hogwarts curriculum in any detail.)

Also in my mail:
- A message from Healer Stint, about some details about the Medwizardry lectures on December 3rd (did I mention to you that he's planning to be here or just to Poppy?)

- A followup from one of my recent errands: I suspect you will be quite pleased by the results.

- 2 letters requesting advice on ways recent halfblood graduates might find it easier to find work, and whether any of the YPL connections might be willing to offer assistance of any kind, no matter how small. (I've started getting a couple of these every month, and they always break my heart: I think I want to add it to the agenda in December if I possibly can. Even a list of employers willing to give halfbloods of good character a chance would be a start.)

- 3 letters accusing me of being a corrupting influence on you. (None of them worrisome, just deluded. One of them may be that woman you were telling me about who persists in pink parchment, purple ink, and charmed glitter all over everything, with Capitals in Every other Word.)

- And the usual range of billing and accounting issues, which are entirely boring.